


i knew you were waiting for me

by undying_young



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Lots of Crying, M/M, andi x walker if you squint, baby bois who r doin their best, music therapy, serenades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 19:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14527725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undying_young/pseuds/undying_young
Summary: Jonah takes up music to cope with his anxiety, and feelings come to light.





	i knew you were waiting for me

**Author's Note:**

> Y'ALL THIS IS SO FUNNY like i started writing this a little over a month ago and i had no idea jonah hercules beck would actually end up singing in a cute ass café but i guess we gettin that in 2b???? so i figured this is the PERFECT time to post this and hope y'all like it as much as i do 
> 
> (also asher actually did a cover of the first song on his YT channel, here's the link: https://youtu.be/A8pdVFIa8zI )
> 
>  
> 
> beta read by @andimackshitposts (tumblr) and TheSubtextMachine (both here and tumblr)

It was in Mr. Goodman's office that Jonah Beck found himself speechless. Leading up to that moment, he'd been visiting Cyrus for a movie day (they'd been spending more time together, and though Cyrus sometimes insisted they spent that time skateboarding again, Jonah could sometimes talk the other boy out of it, and spare himself the extra anxiety), and while Cyrus had gone into the kitchen to make more popcorn, Mr. Goodman had pulled Jonah aside to talk about the… bar mitzvah incident.

 

“Music therapy?”

 

The bearded man nodded. “MT for short. Some who suffer from anxiety or depression--”

 

“I'm not depressed.”

 

“I never meant to suggest as much, Jonah,” the man replied, raising his hands in gentle defense, “But nonetheless, you do have anxiety, and creating music could potentially help you cope with that.”

 

And Jonah really thought about it. Maybe he could be happy. Maybe he could keep making other people happy without worry. Maybe people would stop asking him if he was really okay. Maybe he just would be. Mr. Goodman had to have been on to something.

 

“Jonah!” Cyrus called from the living room. “Popcorn’s done! Buttered for you and car’mal-chocolate for me; you know I like to live lavishly!”

 

Jonah nearly jumped out of his seat, albeit with a dumb grin on his face at Cyrus’ comment. As he was rushing out, Mr. Goodman stood, and handed him a little blue card.

 

“Consider it.”

 

The blue-eyed boy frowned as he stared at it. “I--”

 

“Jonah?” Cyrus called again, sounding a bit closer now.

 

“One second,” Jonah shouted out of the doorway, “just washing my hands!”

 

And with that, he tucked the card into his back pocket, nodded at Mr. Goodman, and took off.

 

+

 

Walking into the MT room for the first time was definitely nothing short of scary. Everyone kind of stared at him--most everyone, anyway-- and though he was used to being stared at and talked about every second of the day… this was different. Walking into this room, everyone knew your vulnerability. Everyone was there for the same reason. There was no way to hide it.

 

“Good morning, welcome,” a woman said, causing him to look up. She had vitiligo, and her hair was bleached blonde and buzzed. Jonah had never seen anyone who looked that before. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t completely know how he felt. The intimidation he was feeling trumped all else before he could interpret it.

 

He was frozen, but the woman’s smile held, and it was kind, and gentle, and Jonah had no idea what he did that was so deserving of such a smile.  

 

“You must be Jonah,” she offered, “I’m Lisa Tommen, I lead MT.” She pointed across the room to a man with glasses and a well-trimmed beard, who looked to be no older than Lisa. He was looking up as well, and offered a silent smile from across the room before directing the attention of the kids back to himself. “That's Connor Askins, he’s my co-leader.”

 

Jonah nodded, and Lisa walked towards him, putting herself between him and the rest of the class.

 

“Do you want to introduce yourself?” she asked in a low voice.

 

Jonah stared at his feet and shook his head.

 

“Alright, that’s fine. Do you want to work alone, or with the group?”

 

His mind, at first, went to the group, because that's where his mind always went. He was most comfortable around others, and making them smile, and being fun. But that was when he was at school, or The Spoon, or Ultimate practice. That was where people knew him, and here no one knew him, but at the same time they knew _something_ was wrong because people don't just come to music therapy for the hell of it but nothing was _supposed_ to be wrong with him because he was _Jonah Beck_ \--

 

“Breathe,” Lisa said gently, “In through the nose for four seconds, out through the mouth for eight seconds. Okay? Try that for me, Jonah.”

 

His eyes snapped up to meet hers. She looked reassuring, and much more calm than he was feeling. He looked down at his hands. When had they started shaking? And when had his heart started racing a thousand miles an hour?

 

He breathed in--onetwothreefour--breathed out--onetwothreefourfivesixseveneight--and felt his heart rate decrease. When he looked back up, he wobbled a bit, and reached out to grab her arm. The room was spinning.

 

“Let's sit down, okay? Let's go sit down.”

 

And he didn't say a word, only followed her to a couch on the far side of the room, and buried his face in his hands, and sat there for a while, and Lisa didn't say anything, she just waited, and maybe it was because she knew he didn't have much he wanted to say.

(Except,)

“There's nothing wrong with me,” he said in a low voice, moving his hands staring at them. They were shaking less. He tightly clasped them together in his lap.

 

“We're not here to make you feel like there's something wrong with you,” she assured him. “We just want to help.”

 

He didn't respond, only nodded, and watched her stand, walking over to some sort of closet. When she opened it, all sorts of instruments were crowding the shelves.

 

Lisa looked back at him. “You wanna see?”

 

Hesitantly, he stood, and peered into the closet, standing only a step behind her.

 

“Do you want to play something? Drums?”

 

There were little bongo drums, recorders, a couple violins, some xylophones (seeing a xylophone was like seeing an old cartoon--it was one of those things you like as a small child then don't  see for years, one of those things you forget exist until you see it again), and even a couple of things he'd never seen before.

 

One thing that stood out, however, was the

(pretty)

“Guitar,” he breathed out, running his hands over the mahogany instrument. He looked up at the blonde woman. “Can you play it?

 

“Since I was six," she beamed.

 

He didn't take his hands off the guitar when he asked, “Can I?”

 

“Play it?”

 

Small nod.

 

Lisa smiled warmly. “Yeah, I could teach you right now.”

 

_“I could teach you right now.”_

 

_Cyrus had chuckled weakly as they walked, poking Jonah’s shoulder. “Good one.”_

 

_“Cyrus, it's easy,” Jonah reassured him. “You can do it.”_

 

_“Really?”_

 

“Really?” Jonah breathed out. He brushed his fingers over the strings, hoping he wasn't blushing from the subject of his sudden bout of déjà vu. "You'd really do that?"

 

“Sure,” Lisa replied, pulling the instrument from the shelf. “C'mon, I'll show you the basics.”

 

+

 

Like many things, Jonah took to guitar naturally. That didn't stop him from practicing, though, didn't stop him from saving up for his own, didn't stop him from playing and playing and playing and playing and playing until way past his bedtime, strumming listlessly at the strings and staring at the ceiling with all the glow-in-the-dark stars on them from when he was an itty bitty kid. He’d strum and stare at the fading stars, some serene tune he made up, and fall asleep, just like that.

 

After some time, when the questioning of where Jonah had been running off to twice a week was starting to feel too much like walls were closing in on him, he told Buffy about MT. It was at The Spoon (it seemed everything happened at The Spoon, everything important that ever happened to any of them), and she had all but dropped her jaw when he let the words slip out of his mouth.

 

Her concern was thinly veiled when she asked, “Why?”

 

“I have anxiety.” He shrugged. “It helps.”

 

Biffy nodded, and as if on cue, they both took a sip of their milkshakes, looking off at anywhere else.

 

“So how long?” Buffy asked after a moment, setting down her

 

“How long what?”

 

“How long have you had anxiety?”

 

And he really thought about it. He _had_ had days when he'd been panicked, internally or otherwise, before the bar mitzvah. There was the time he was headed to the sing-along with Andi, and the time Cyrus fell off the skateboard, and when he had to figure out what he was going to get Cyrus for the award ceremony for the Space Otters. There was the time, a time that suddenly felt years past, when he went to a football game with the boy. It was fun, most things with Cyrus were fun, but something had nagged at him that day, just in the back of his mind, and he couldn't pinpoint it if he--

 

“I like Cyrus.”

 

Buffy’s eyes widened, and this time her jaw really did drop.

 

After a long moment, the words sunk in to Jonah himself, and he covered his mouth with both hands.

 

Buffy cleared her throat, and folded her hands on the table. “The answer to a question I never asked, but let's start there.” She slammed her hands on the table. “You like _Cyrus?!_ When? How long? _What?!”_

 

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed, aware of the curious eyes that were now looking right at them. Luckily, Buffy shot them a glare, and they minded their business, or at least pretended to. “I don't want it getting to him before I can do anything about it.”

 

Buffy raised her eyebrows, and a small smile began forming at her lips.

 

“So you're gonna do something about it?”

 

“I…” he shook his head, and looked down. “I don't know.”

 

“You need to tell him,” she said quickly.

 

“Why? What if it goes all wrong?”

 

“Jonah, trust me.” Buffy replied, and reached across the table to grip his arm, looking deadly serious; more serious than she had back when she'd chewed him out about hugging Amber. “You need to tell him.”

 

He shifted uncomfortably under her steely gaze. “Buffy, you're making me nervous.”

 

“Sorry,” she moved her hand back, but didn't relax. “But it's really important, Jonah. I mean, God, this changes everything!”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Buffy snapped out of her shock, and gave the boy a soft look. He didn't know what to think of it, but before he could question it, her phone rang. She hurriedly answered, mouthed, “Mom,” and rushed out of the door. He didn't blame her. If his mom had been gone as long as hers had, it would've taken him a while to relax when she called him, too.

 

Jonah stared out of the window at Buffy, who had visibly relaxed.

 

This could be fine. This could work.

 

+

 

“Hey, Jonah. Jonah!”

 

“Hm?”

 

Three months in of MT, three months in of almost telling Cyrus but it never being the right time (much to Buffy’s disdain), Jonah was approached by Lisa, who was holding a flyer. She dangled it in his face, and he furrowed his brow, taking the paper from her.

 

It was so-an-so in the afternoon, and after an especially hard day, he'd been sitting on the couch in the MT room, strumming at the borrowed mahogany guitar, strumming and strumming until the day's anxieties seemed smaller, far away.

 

The flyer was for an open mic night.

 

“It’s next week,” she said. “You should go.”

 

“Why? Jonah sat the paper on a sofa cushion. “There's no way I'm going to be as good as anyone else there.”

 

Lisa picked up the paper, and took a seat next to him. “Why not go for fun? It's not a competition.”

 

“I…” Jonah trailed off, because he knew she had him, so he let his eyes drift to the details on the flyer.

 

“I’ve got plans. I do group hang outs twice a week with my friends, and every week, one of us has to pick the activities. My week is next week.”

 

The young woman shrugged. “So let this be your activity.”

 

“Lisa--”

 

“Hey, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do," she reminded him. "You know that. But I believe that every one of you in this room, including _you_ , Jonah Beck,” she nudged his shoulder, and he smiled a little, “can do anything you set your mind to.”

 

Jonah opened his mouth, then closed it again, and nodded. Lisa gave him a little closed-mouthed smile, and patted his shoulder.

 

“Consider it.”

 

Another nod. “I will.”

 

+

 

And he did. After much plotting with Buffy about choosing a song that told Cyrus how he felt better than his own words could, the night came. The entire day leading up to him performing was a series of freakouts and nervousness and practising playing the song until his hand cramped up.

 

“You need to breathe,” Lisa reminded him,

(onetwothreefour, onetwothreefourfivesixseveneight)

“and remember: you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We could leave right now if you feel like it.”

 

But he couldn't. He really couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to himself. He'd come too far. This wasn't the day he was going to give up.

 

“I have to stay,” he replied with a sureness he never knew he had. “I have to. I have to do this for myself, and for Cyrus. If I keep it in a day longer, I'll probably explode.”

 

“In that case, go out there and do the damn thing!” Buffy exclaimed, grinning like a crazy person. It made Jonah feel oddly giddy seeing her so hyped up, and he high-fived her, nodding excitedly. “You got this, Jonah. You're gonna be okay.”

 

“I'm gonna be okay.”

 

“You got this.”

 

Jonah nodded. “I got this.”

 

“And you've gotten really good,” Lisa assured him. “I don't just say that to anyone, Jonah; it's like you were made for this.”

 

“I was made for it,” he repeated to himself.

 

“Jonah?”

 

He looked up to see Cyrus looking between the three of them in concern. Andi was across the room, watching worriedly with Walker. “Is everything okay?”

 

Jonah's legs suddenly felt like jelly. “I-I, uh, I'm--”

 

“Jitters,” Buffy answered for him. Sometimes it felt as if the girl was a gift from God. “He'll be fine.”

 

“Oh. Okay!” Cyrus gave a prize-winning smile, and wrapped Jonah in a tight hug. “You're gonna be great, Jonah.”

 

Cyrus pulled back, and Jonah actively stop himself from falling over.

 

“I…”

 

Brown eyes. Big, dreamy brown eyes were stuck on his; how Jonah had ever been able to hold coherent conversations with the other boy was completely beyond him.

 

Cyrus nodded slowly. “You…?”

 

“I…” Focus, he needed to focus. Cyrus was waiting patiently for his response, and Jonah was back in the room, looking down at his shoes. “I hope you like the song.”

 

“Me too.” Jonah made a face, and Cyrus laughed. “I'm kidding. I know I'll love it.”

 

The hazel-eyed boy nodded quickly, his face growing hot. “Docious.”

 

“Maximum magocious,” Cyrus added.

 

After a but of chuckling and looking down at feet and stealing small glances at one another, Cyrus ambled off to talk to Andi and Walker.

 

Jonah could hear Buffy rolling her eyes. “You two are hopeless.”

 

+

 

He started off timidly. His head was down, and his eyes were closed--almost like he was praying, praying that he wouldn't mess up.

 

And then,

 

 _“Like a warrior that fights_ _  
_ _And wins the battle_  
_I know the taste of victory”_

 

He looked up to see everyone watching intently, some even seeming surprised, but no one looked more off guard than the Good Hair Crew (plus Walker). Andi was very blatantly shook, her eyes as wide as saucers, Buffy looked like the blinking guy meme, and Walker was grinning so excitedly, it was hard for Jonah to not smile, too.

 

 _“Though I went through some nights_ _  
_ _Consumed by the shadows_

_And was crippled emotionally”_

 

Then Cyrus… he seemed lost. No, not lost, but, like… well, his eyelids were drooped and he was blinking slowly and the look on his face barely resembled a smile, but it was beautiful, and warm, and sweet? It was like, if Jonah tried hard enough, he could imagine Cyrus with his chin in the palm of his hand. Like he was daydreaming.

 

Jonah raised his head some more.

 _  
_ _“Somehow I made it through the heartache, yes I did_  
_I escaped”_

 

A lot more. There were a couple shouts of encouragement as his voice picked up. He couldn't stop smiling.

 _  
_ _“I found my way out of the darkness, kept my faith_  
_Kept my faith”_

 

He nearly laughed when Walker took out his phone to wave his flashlight. The guy was really growing on him.

 

 _“When the river was deep_ _  
_ _I didn't falter_ _  
_ _When the mountain was high_ _  
_ _I still believed_ _  
_ _When the valley was low_  
_It didn't stop me, no no”_

 

When their eyes met, Cyrus smiled, and it was wide and bright and genuine, so much so that his eyes hardly looked to be open, and Jonah was filled with all the best feelings he'd ever felt.

 

_“I knew you were waiting_

_Knew you were waiting for me”_

 

If he hadn't been on stage, he might've keeled over right there, so he closed his eyes as the next verse came up. He felt kind of… kind of light. Like a feather, almost. Like he was free.

Singing made him feel free. Cyrus’ grin, seeing the rest of his friends smiling from the crowd, it all made him feel free. Invincible. Jonah could do anything. Anything in the world, maybe.

 

+

 

The show finished out with a couple of poetry acts, and as soon as the host closed out, Jonah was practically attacked by the girls.

 

“Your voice is amazing!” Andi raved, clutching his arm.

 

Buffy nodded, absolutely beaming. “You never told us you could sing like that.”

 

Jonah shrugged, a smile splitting across his face from the praise. “Never knew I could.”

 

“Well I'm super glad you invited us,” Cyrus spoke up, walking up to the group as he folded his jacket over his forearm. “Your singing’s really gnarly.”

 

Was he flying? Jonah felt like he was flying.

 

“Gnarly?” he asked gently. He’d spoken so low, he almost thought he hadn’t replied at all until Cyrus grinned, nodding.

 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Who were you singing about, anyway?”

 

Jonah blinked twice. “Huh?”

 

“The song,” Buffy offered. “It was pretty intense for a cover. Maybe it's time to spill the beans, Mo-Jo Jo-Jo.”

 

Andi made a face as she gently tugged Buffy away from the two. “Really?” she hissed. _“ Mo-Jo Jo-Jo?”_

 

“What? He basically melts when Cyrus calls him that.”

 

“You’re not Cyrus!”

 

When the girls’ bickering was out of earshot, the boys blinked at what had just happened, and both burst into nervous laughter.

 

“Can you believe them sometimes?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

And the laugh that followed wasn't as nervous. It was bright and maybe a little antsy--maybe it was because holy shit, Jonah really just Did That™, or maybe because he knew Buffy knew and probably Andi too, because girls didn't just walk off giggling like that unless something wasn't being said; and that something could be the fact that, though it wasn't yet general knowledge, everyone just kind of knew Jonah liked Cyrus. Except Cyrus, because _of course_ except Cyrus.

 

The laughter subsided, and Cyrus, oblivious in the eyes of everyone except himself, probably, asked, “What did Buffy mean? What're the beans?”

 

And just like that--

 

“The song?” Jonah was buying time at this point. Of course the song. What other beans could Cyrus possibly be talking about?

 

“Yeah,” Cyrus replied. “The song.”

 

“It, uh… I…”

 

Big brown eyes stared him down, and waited.

 

Jonah wanted to tell the truth. He’d planned this exact moment with Buffy _to a T,_ but all he could do now was choke on his words, because everything he wanted to say was stuck in his throat, and oh God, Cyrus was still waiting, why couldn’t he just--

 

Cyrus stepped forward and let his hand rest on Jonah’s shoulder. “Hey, man, are you okay?”

 

“It was for you,” Jonah replied. “It's you. I…”He trailed off, shaking his head.

 

Cyrus frowned. “The song was for me? Jonah, I'm confused.”

 

Jonah wondered if he truly had to spell it out, but Cyrus was standing there, looking confused and worried, and Jonah realized that yeah, he _would_ actually have to spell it out for him, because even though Cyrus was one of the best students he knew, he was nothing if not oblivious.

 

Deep breaths, kid.

 

“I like you,” Jonah practically sighed. “A lot. And it scared me at first, but it's just… it's right. Hanging out with you… it feels right.”

 

“Jaw _dropped_ ,” he heard Andi murmur, and turned to see the girls standing only a few feet away, sipping iced tea through straws and watching intently. Walker was right behind them, eating a bag of gummy worms, fully engaged.

 

Buffy gave him the “go on” gesture, and Andi and Walker nodded in unison. Jonah grimaced at them, and turned back to Cyrus, who looked misty-eyed.

 

Sinking feeling. Deep sinking feeling, in the pit of his stomach--he’d made Cyrus upset. That was the last thing he wanted and he shouldn't have said that because things were going so _well_ but what if Cyrus thought they could never be together--

 

“Jonah,” Cyrus croaked out, wiping his face. His cheeks were totally flushed, and oh God, he _had_ been crying.

 

“Are you okay? I'm sorry, are you alright?”

 

“ _Jonah_ ,” Cyrus repeated, his voice cracking almost beyond comprehension. “Jonah, you're so funny, Jonah.” He wiped at his face again, and looked down at his feet. “You're so funny.”

 

“Cyrus, I mean it. Look at me, you know I mean it.”

 

“Can't,” Cyrus muttered. “Can't look.”

 

Jonah sighed, and backed towards the little stage, where Lisa was holding his guitar for him as she chatted with Connor. Jonah turned, and gave Lisa a desperate look. Connor nudged her shoulder, and she turned to face him. As soon as her gaze landed on his, she handed him the instrument, and he took to the little stage again.

 

Everyone was either gone or chatting on chatting on the sidelines, and Cyrus only stood there, still refusing to look up. Andi and Buffy had rushed to his side, silently putting their arms around his shoulders. Walker wasn't too far behind.

 

So he started playing. Jonah played the first melody he’d ever learned; one that had eased his mind many nights before.

 

 _“The more I learn, the more I see_ _  
_ _The less the world impassions me”_

 

The room quieted a little.

 

 _“The hungry heart, the roving eye_ _  
_ _Have come to rest, do not apply_ _  
_ _The frantic chase, the crazy ride_  
_The thrill has gone, I step aside”_

 

Jonah’s closed his eyes just as Cyrus looked up.

 

 _“And I'd believe in anything were it not for you_ _  
_ _Showing me by just existing only this is true_

_I love you”_

 

Everyone else was completely silent, now.

 

_“I love you without question, I love you”_

 

The girls let him go, and Cyrus walked closer to the stage, eyes wide and absolutely full of tears. He was starting to smile. It was small and subconscious, but it was there.

 

 _“The more I want the more I steal_ _  
_ _The more I hold the less is real_ _  
_ _All worldly things I follow blind_ _  
_ _In hope not faith was paid in kind_ _  
_ _The line is drawn, the change is made_  
_I come to you”_

 

Jonah opened his eyes, and was met with brown behind long eyelashes, and his breathing came easier.

 

_“I'm not afraid!_

 

 _And I'd believe in anything were it not for you_ _  
_ _Showing me by just existing only this is true_ _  
_ _I love you, I love you without question, I love you_ _  
_ _I'd believe in anything were it not for you_ _  
_ _Showing me by just existing only this is true_  
_I love you, I love you without question, I love you”_

 

As soon as the song ended, Cyrus couldn't have gotten any closer to the stage, but no one made a move to stop him.

 

“C’mere,” he said, Jonah rushed to him so fast that he hardly even remembered putting down the guitar.

 

All of his senses were exponentially heightened. All he could hear was cheering from the people he knew and the people he didn't; all he could feel was warmth radiating from the other boy; all he could see was the lights that were blurring because of the tears in his eyes; all he could smell was Almond & Vanilla Fine Fragrance Mist™ because Cyrus hated that most cologne smelled like a punch in the face, and because almond and vanilla with natural almond oil just smelled really good.

 

The brown eyed boy pulled back too soon, and he was an absolute mess, with tears falling really quickly and his nose beginning to run, but it was alright because that was what people did sometimes, and Jonah was sure he didn't look any better.

 

Buffy was there with tissues in a moment, but quickly handed them to Cyrus and backed off.

 

“Do-do you wanna go, uh,” Jonah gestured almost frantically at the door of the café, struggling to find his words.

 

Cyrus nodded rapidly, and the boys walked out of the door, and into the cool night.

 

Words did not come by easily. They stood out there for a good thirty seconds, shifting from one foot to the other, looking at each other, then looking away, before Cyrus offered a rather quick:

 

“I-I didn't think that-that this would ever happen, that I would ever get this far--”

 

“Neither did I.”

 

After some thought, Cyrus replied, “You could have anyone. You're a great guy. And the dimples? Forget it.”

 

Jonah smiled, and Cyrus smiled, too.

 

“See, there they go.”

 

“You're the best, Cy.”

 

“No way.”

 

“ _Yes_ way.” Jonah bit his lip, nearly stopping himself. “You… You're the only one that's been there the whole time. And it was because you wanted to be.”

 

“That was nothing.”

 

“It was everything.”

 

And this time, Cyrus didn't try to argue. He only nodded, because if Jonah was so adamant about it, maybe it could be true. Maybe.

 

Cyrus rocked on his feet. “You sang me a song.”

 

“I did.”

 

“Because you like me.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Well.”

 

They stood there, resuming their actions from when they first walked out--looking at everything but each other, shifting from one side to another, fiddling with the hem of a shirt or a strand of hair.

 

Then the silence became a little unbearable, so Jonah said, “It looks really nice out--”

 

And before he could finish, Cyrus grabbed him by the collar and kissed him, then pushed him back a little.

 

“Sorry,” the brown-eyed boy sputtered, seeming a little shook with himself for making such a move, “It's just, you were talking, and I just, I figured it could--”

 

“It can,” Jonah interrupted before kissing back, and Cyrus’ eyes went wide for a split second, but only moments later he was positively melting.  

 

When they pulled away, though neither could tell, they were both left with shaking hands. Neither of them had any clue how situations like these were supposed to go, but they'd figured it felt right, so that must've meant they were on the right track.

 

“The girls,” Cyrus started. “Walker…”

 

“And Lisa, and Connor,” Jonah added. “They're probably waiting for us.”

 

“Yeah,” Cyrus replied, nodding, “Yes, we should get back to them.”

 

“Totally.”

 

Neither of them made a move to go back inside, though, and Cyrus squeezed his eyes shut, and murmured,

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

And braced himself for being rejected, or waking up, because he knew that this had to have been some sort of sick dream.

 

But instead, Jonah smiled wide, showing off The Dimples™, and replied, “Boyfriend,” and Cyrus could've sworn his ears were playing tricks on him.

 

But Jonah kept smiling, albeit a little nervously, and as many times as he pinched himself, Cyrus didn't find himself suddenly staring at the ceiling of his bedroom.

  
And as hard as Jonah pinched _him_ self, he couldn't believe it, either.


End file.
